


A King's Ransom

by Maverick



Category: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-10
Updated: 2010-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timmy doesn’t remember much about the first time he was kidnapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A King's Ransom

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to pollitt for beta and cheerleading.

__

Timmy doesn’t remember much about the first time he was kidnapped, it all happened so quickly. He had met Donald for lunch at Marge’s diner. It was meatloaf Wednesday and nothing made Donald as happy as a slab of that famous meatloaf with a heap of mashed potatoes on the side. And a happy Donald made for a happy Timmy. They both gorged themselves on the food, laughing about how there’d be no need for dinner that night.

It was just a normal day. They talked about work and plans for the weekend. Timmy told Donald about a job offer he was considering from the newly elected Senator Glassman. Donald told Timmy about his latest client, who kept hitting on him even through Donald kept reminding her that he was _gay_ and happily in a committed relationship.

Timmy knew he had no reason to be jealous because, yes, Donald was _gay_ but more importantly he was in love with Timmy. Of that, Timmy had no doubts. But it never hurt to remind Donald of all the good, naughty things he had waiting for him at home, so Timmy toed off his loafer and slid his socked foot up the inside of Donald’s thigh until it was pressing against his groin. Donald’s slight gasp and wicked grin let Timmy know his message had been received loud and clear.

Donald’s hand cupped Timmy’s foot, his thumb stroking across his ankle. “Good to know we’ll be working off the meatloaf later tonight,” Donald said with a wink. They grinned sillily at each other as they cleaned their plates. After slipping his shoe back on, Timmy got up to go wash his hands while Donald chatted with Marge. That was all he remembered before waking up gagged and blindfolded in a room that smelled like cheap bourbon.  


  
~*~*~*~*~  


Timmy might not remember what happened but Donald does.

Donald remembers heading back to the bathroom when Timmy hadn’t returned after five minutes. He remembers calling out “sweetheart” to an empty room, the smile on his face fading fast. He remembers reading the note taped to the mirror above the sink.

_“YOU TOOK AWAY WHAT I LOVE. SO I RETURNED THE FAVOR._

  
HOW DO YOU LIKE IT STRACHEY?”   


He remembers gripping the sink so hard and with such force that he literally ripped it off the wall. He remembers Marge’s comforting hand on his shoulder as she shut off the water and told him to, “Go. Go now. I’ll deal the the police. You’ll have better luck finding him without the police holding you back.”

And he would. He knew who he was looking for. He knew why he’d done it. And he knew he’d find him. He’d find _Timmy_. And if the fucker had done anything to him, he was dead.  


  
~*~*~*~*~  


It was strange, but Timmy never really felt scared. Sure, he didn’t particularly like being tied up and gagged. And the goose egg on the back of his head where he’d been hit throbbed a lot. But he knew that Donald would be coming for him. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Donald would find him, would rescue him. And knowing Donald Strachey the way he did, he knew it would be sooner rather than later.

He also knew that this whole experience would be even worse for Donald. Early in their relationship, Donald had sat him down, had explained that sometimes people came after him, threatened him, and if Timmy was with him, then he might be a target as well. Donald had stroked Timmy’s chin with his thumb, and said that he’d understand if Timmy wanted to end it because it wasn’t safe. He’d hate it but he’d accept it because it would kill him if something happened to Timmy because of him or his job.

Timmy had pulled Donald into a fierce hug and smacked him upside the head. He told him that whatever the risk, Donald was worth it. Donald would _always_ be worth it, and if Donald didn’t know that by now, then he was not as brilliant as Timmy thought he was. Timmy hoped that Donald remembered those words as he looked for him.  


  
~*~*~*~*~  


It really didn’t take Donald long to find him, find _them._ Tony Santini was a small-time hood and not the brightest crayon in the box. Donald had uncovered a betting scam at the local race track. Santini was in the thick of it and his involvement got him banned from the track for life. The horses there had been Santini’s life and he was not happy that his favorite playground had been taken away from him. He’d threatened Donald, but Donald figured with his case going to trial soon, there really wasn’t anything Santini could do to him.

Turned out he was wrong.

Donald found them in the backroom of the feed store that Santini’s uncle owned. He cut Timmy loose from the chair he was tied to before lunging at Santini. He never believed in the expression seeing red, but that was all he could see. He’d never felt such rage. He wrapped his hands around Santini’s neck and squeezed, watching the life drain out of the asshole who dared to try and take Timmy from him. It was what the bastard deserved. But then Timmy was talking to him, his voice rough from the gag but beautiful nevertheless. That much loved voice was bringing him back, settling him down. He felt Timmy’s hand on his shoulders, a warm welcome weight. “Sweetheart, let him go. It’s not worth it. I’m fine. He’s not worth it. Let him go.”

He remembers dropping Santini to the ground and letting Timmy pull him into a hug, Timmy’s hand stroking his back, his mouth whispering soothing words against Donald’s ear. He remembers Timmy taking out his cell phone and calling 911, letting the police know where they were. And he remembers kissing Timmy’s eyelids, his temple, his hands running along the planes of Timmy’s face, letting himself believe in Timmy’s well being only after he’d felt the reality of it through the tips of his fingers and the welcome touch of warm skin against his lips.  


  
~*~*~*~*~  


Timmy doesn't remember much about the first time he was kidnapped, but he's had plenty of practice since. And the one truth that remains constant is that he knows Donald will always find him and bring him home.

  
—FIN—


End file.
